


This Moment Now and This Moment, Now

by universe



Category: Caprica (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Trust, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Each betrayal begins with trust.</i> Five moments in the evolution of a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Moment Now and This Moment, Now

_maybe it means nothing, maybe it means nothing,  
maybe it means nothing, but i’m afraid to move._

 

**one.**

 

“Zoe never loved me.”

Amanda’s head hung in something stronger than embarrassment, but weaker than shame, while the confession slipped out.

“What?” Clarice asked, clearly surprised. “No. No, no, no. Don’t say that. Zoe loved you more than you’ll ever know.” A hand trailed up Amanda’s arm, tangled in her hair.

“When we talked, she mentioned you often.”

Amanda huffed, “Never anything good, I’d wager.”

“Zoe was a teenager, Amanda. I’ve worked at the Academy for years now, and not once have I come across a girl—or boy—her age who liked their parents. None of them do. That doesn’t mean they don’t _love_ their parents.”

The blonde woman stopped arguing, but wasn’t convinced. Clarice must have noticed, because she leaned in closer, until there was almost no space between them.

“Zoe loved you. She _loved_ you. And you loved her. You were never a bad mother to her.”

Clarice looked at her, slowly nodding her head until Amanda did the same.

“There are just so many things I wish I could take back. So many things we said that we shouldn’t have…”

“I know,” Clarice said, “we all feel that way about the people we lose. But you can’t spend the rest of your life with regrets. Zoe wouldn’t want that. Let them go. Let _her_ go.”

Amanda hesitated.

“Well, it’s not that easy, is it?”

That brought a smile to Clarice’s face, sympathetic and understanding, all the things she no longer got from Daniel.

“No, it’s not.”

 

**two.**

 

“Clarice?”

It was the first word she’d spoken in days, and her throat felt raw just from the two syllables.

“Amanda?” came the quick reply, and her friend was next to her in an instant, a warm hand gripping her own carefully. Clarice looked worn, tired, her clothes wrinkled as if she’d slept in them.

“Were you here all this time?” she asked quietly, somehow hoping the answer would be yes.

Clarice just smiled and put a hand on her cheek. The bed was soft, and Clarice’s fingers were the lifeline she’d needed throughout all of this. She felt herself being pulled away by exhaustion again, safe in the knowledge Clarice would be there when she woke up again, and would keep Daniel away from her just like she’d asked.

“You rest now. It’s all going to be okay.”

With that, and a last look at the other woman’s face, Amanda fell back into darkness.

 

**three.**

 

The cabin was smaller than Clarice had made it sound, somehow. It would be awkward if Amanda didn’t trust her completely. This, now, only made her feel safe. Made her feel cherished and loved and wanted, and she hadn’t had that in a long time.

Her legs were going to take time to recover, weeks at best, maybe even months. Here, she didn’t have to worry about anything but getting better. She slept in each day, so when she woke up, Clarice had already left for the Academy, and each afternoon, no matter if she wanted to or not, Clarice would make her go for a walk. It was the alternative to physical therapy in a hospital, so Amanda usually gave in quickly. Today was no different.

“It’s so beautiful outside. What do you say we go take a walk in the park?”

Amanda wanted to protest, her left leg had been itchy and sore all morning, and putting strain on it was exactly the opposite of what she wanted to do. But then she looked at Clarice, saw a spark in her eyes that reminded her scarily of Zoe, and before she knew it, she had agreed.

The route Clarice had chosen for the day wasn’t particularly challenging, nothing they hadn’t done before, even when her legs were still much weaker, but somehow, she felt a little under the weather today, which made the slow crawl through the park one of the more exhausting things she’d done in her life.

After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, she was too worn out to keep going, even more so once she started thinking about the way back. The mere idea made her lose focus for a moment, until it was almost too late. Clarice had noticed her lapse, though, and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her and keep her from falling. Together, they stumbled onto the next bench, Clarice laughing loudly over their combined clumsiness. Amanda joined in almost immediately; it really _was_ quite ridiculous.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Amanda quickly reassured her friend, but she rested her head on Clarice’s shoulder anyway. Just until she caught her breath, she told herself.

The park was fairly busy for a workday morning, dog walkers mingling with people who were exercising amidst elderly couples taking a stroll. None of that registered with Amanda, though, not once she closed her eyes. Exhaustion was threatening to take over, and as loath as she would have usually been to give in, the feel of Clarice beside her, her warmth, her smell, all added up to make her comfortable enough to just ignore the outside world for a while. She felt Clarice wrap her arm around her tightly, tugging her more firmly against her body.

No words were spoken because none were needed. They sat like that for a while, Amanda wouldn't be able to say how long exactly. At one point, Clarice had started stroking her hair slowly, absent-mindedly, probably not even noticing she was doing it. There was something new in the touch, though, something _possessive_ that made the hair on Amanda’s neck stand up.

There was a clear shift in their relationship, and they both knew it. What they didn’t seem to know was what to do about it, so they ignored it, and just like the moment on the park bench passed eventually and ended with them getting up and walking back to the cabin in comfortable silence, so would other, similar moments. But after that one incident, they started developing routines, moving from occasional hugs to friendly little touches throughout the whole day—and then taking another step further:

They’d never agreed to share a bed, never had the conversation that should go with a change like that. And yet, whenever Amanda jerked awake from another nightmare, Clarice was already there, next to her, soothingly caressing her back and shushing all bad dreams away. More often than not they fell asleep together like that then, Clarice spooned up against her from behind. And more often than not, the bad dreams stayed away for what remained of the night.

 

**four.**

 

They say that to betray you must first belong, that each betrayal begins with trust.

Amanda had never actively betrayed anyone before. Sure, she’d lied and bended the truth to fit her needs, but deceiving somebody knowingly was completely foreign to her.

It was a strange feeling, having to keep up the façade during most of the day, and sometimes even the night, and there was a part of her that still wasn’t convinced any of the things Durham had told her were actually true. How could they be? Clarice had been nothing but friendly and supportive. And she admitted to caring more about Zoe than about her other students, to loving her, so it had all made sense, everything she’d said—until Durham came and told her of monotheists and terrorists and confidential informants. So she snuck around, had _infiltrated_ her best friend’s home—the mere thought made her sick to her stomach. But if there was even an ounce of truth to the accusations, she _had_ to know. She owed her daughter that much.

There were moments, though, when she was almost sure Clarice knew. That they’d caught her going through things she had no business even looking at, or that her secret meetings with Durham that happened under the guise of lone walks in the park weren’t secret at all anymore. Amanda didn’t like this feeling either, being always wary, constantly on edge. She really did miss the time they’d spent at the cabin, the peace and quite there that comes with sharing a place with the person you trust most in the world.

She was jarred out of her thoughts one dark evening by the very woman who called herself her friend. Clarice smiled at her while she sat down, that smile that had become so familiar to Amanda it now hurt to look at.

“Are you settling in okay?”

Amanda nodded with what felt like a grimace on her face. The silence was awkward for a minute, until Clarice let her head fall against the back rest of the couch.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Amanda said.

“Do what?”

She pointed vaguely towards the door that lead to the living room.

“This. Them. Everything.”

The curious, wondering look in Clarice’s eyes prompted her to go on.

“You have such a wonderful family. And you’ve got the Academy and all your students.”

“And you,” Clarice interjected.

“And me. I guess… I just don’t know how you manage all of that.”

The other woman didn’t say anything for a while, clearly in thought.

“Hmm. That’s a good question, actually. I’ve never thought of it that way. My family is the—is one of the most important things in my life. They give me strength. I don’t see them as a burden, they’re a _gift_. A divine gift.”

“From the gods?” Amanda asked, hoping to goad her _friend_ into a more telling response. Her attempt was in vain, though, as Clarice only hummed again.

“When I had Zoe, I felt so… stifled, so suffocated sometimes. And I only had her and Daniel, you have so many people here. Don’t you ever just want to escape all of this? Live a completely different life?”

Clarice shook her head.

“No. My purpose is to be here with these people. And with you. That’s my destiny, and I will never question that, or want anything else. It’s not how life works.”

“A destiny, huh?” the blonde woman huffed.

“Yes. Everybody has one, Amanda.”

“Even Zoe?” she pried carefully.

“Even Zoe.”

“What was her purpose?”

Clarice hesitated and looked at her for a long time, until Amanda wanted to start fidgeting from the tension inside her. _She knows_ , her mind screamed, but she told herself to calm down, to stay still and wait.

“I don’t know,” Clarice finally replied, and Amanda just couldn’t tell if it was a lie or the truth, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much time she spent studying her friend’s every expression. “That’s not for us mere mortals to find out. You’re lucky if you figure out your own purpose in your lifetime,” she added with another smile.

When Amanda didn’t speak, Clarice did what she always seemed to be doing, she touched her arm, then her face, carefully pressing a finger or two against Amanda’s forehead.

“You have a destiny, too, you know?”

Without meaning to, Amanda smiled.

“I do?”

“Hmmhmmm. You might not know it yet, but you’ll figure it out.”

“And how do I do that?” she asked.

“First, you need to have faith. If you have faith, you will be shown the way. A lot of people struggle with this, but I’ll always be here for you. You’re not alone, Amanda.” The smile that followed stung almost as much as Amanda’s quickly mirrored version of it.

They say that betrayal can only happen if you love.

 

**five.**

 

These days, she didn’t really think much about Clarice anymore. She and Daniel had managed to thwart the STO’s attempt to kill thousands of people, and after that, everything went back to the way it was _before_. Before Zoe died, before Amanda had been faced with truths about her daughter she had never wanted to hear. Except… Well, except Zoe was still only a computer program—a virtual person, as it were—and being around Daniel was more awkward than it had ever been, without their daughter there.

“Alright, I’m done with the subroutine. Do you want to try it out now?” her husband asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“We can have dinner first, if you’d like. When was the last time you ate?”

Somehow, Daniel’s sudden concern for her well-being wasn’t welcome, and made her feel a pang of resentment towards him. When had that happened?

For a fleeting moment, she wished for Clarice to be there so she could discuss this with her, figure out what it meant and how it had ever got this far. Surprisingly, after everything, she still missed her. She just wasn’t sure whether she missed the woman herself or just the mere idea of her, the vague concept of having a best friend to tell everything to.

Amanda had thought about going to see Clarice once or twice. They hadn’t kept in touch, of course not, but she hadn’t been completely _idle_ either. She had found out where her former friend now lived, how she spent her days, and what she had done to escape prosecution for her crimes. But that was the extent of Amanda’s involvement in Clarice’s new life, limited to cautious glances from the outside, from far, far away.

“No, I’d like to do it now. I don’t want to keep Zoe waiting. Besides, this way, she can check the code while we grab something to eat.”

It wasn’t ‘have dinner’ any longer, or even ‘share a meal,’ between the two of them, it was only ‘grab something to eat,’ quickly, nervously, often covered by painful silence. That was why most days, Amanda chose to eat on her own, while working on the skin and muscle and bone they had promised Zoe. A real body, to touch and hold, and to never let go again.

She put on the holoband, and the now well-known sensation of being pulled out of her body put into _something else_ swept over here like a wave. It always took her two seconds to adjust, to remember she could move, talk, breathe. There she was, her daughter. The moment she spotted Zoe, the feeling of suffocation that had haunted her fell off her, if only for the time she’d stay in the virtual world.

“Where’s Daddy? Is he not coming?”

Amanda shook her head, “Later. He just finished the subroutine we need to get you out of here, and you need to check it for him.”

“He’s going to monitor my changes from the outside again, isn’t he?”

“Yes. You know how he is. He doesn’t trust anyone but himself not to frak up.”

The smile that played on her face wasn’t as real as she would’ve wanted it to be, but it was enough to put Zoe at ease again.

“So, what do you want to do?” her daughter asked with an achingly familiar echo of the excitement Amanda still remembered her having as a child.

Sometimes, this entire place felt so real that she forgot it wasn’t, and whenever that happened, she was astounded at Zoe’s ability to check thousands upon thousands of lines of code while at the same time still beating her at chess. She knew Zoe’s options were limitless, she could do _anything_. It would have been scary, if necessity hadn’t forced her to stop being frightened of technology a long time ago, loathe as she was to refer to her own daughter as such. The more time they spent together in the virtual world, the less scared she became of the prospect of bringing Zoe back to life, even as a machine of a sort. It wouldn’t be like the first time, they both knew that. On the contrary, actually, as they were getting to know each other again, like they had when Zoe had first been born.

“I don’t know. Anything you want.”

Zoe was lost in thought for a moment, and then the excited twinkle was back in her eyes.

“I want to go somewhere.”

“Can we do that?” Amanda asked, surprised. They had never talked about this; the mutual decision had been made for Zoe to stay inside the virtual representation of their home.

“Sure!”

Zoe took her mother’s hand, and, within the blink of an eye and the clenching of a fist, they were flying, actually _flying_ over Caprica. Once she had recovered from the first rush of panic, she started recognising places, and with that came the memories. She was glad she had her daughter to cling on to.

There was their house, of course, ever so slightly different than from what it looked like in reality, or maybe that was just her mind playing tricks on her. She wondered if the old flower pots were visible from up here, the ones she’d used to try—without much luck—to get Zoe back into gardening after they had moved. But they were already heading away from the house, over the city.

The river opened up below her, sparkling light blue speckled with green reflections from the woods surrounding the water. For a second, all she could see was the same colours mixed together in large eyes, eyes that had looked at her warmly, appraisingly, reproachfully. And then they’d crossed the river, and there was the spot where Durham had confronted her about Clarice, and then the bench in Orpheus Park where they’d met to exchange information.

It wasn’t only a myriad of sights, but also of emotions that played out in her chest. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she’d see her former friend somewhere down there, with her family, maybe, or just by herself, scheming.

Another river. She knew this one almost as well as the one near their house, but for different reasons. And there it was, the place she’d been afraid to see. She could’ve avoided going there, could’ve told Zoe, but there were some things you just didn’t tell your child. This was one of them; she would never share those desperate minutes in the dark that had almost cost her life.

“Are you okay?” Zoe asked, and in that sound, Amanda pushed all the memories aside again, deciding to focus solely on her daughter for the time being.

Everything else could wait.

 

**after.**

 

She pulls the thin blanket tighter around her body, warding off the chill outside the window. Gemenon is freezing this time of year, even more so than usual, but she can’t sleep. Her clothes are ragged, her hair could definitely use a trim, the blonde looking pale, almost dirty in the midnight light. But none of that matters. She has her daughter back, and, more than that, she and Daniel have parted ways amicably—something that wouldn’t have been possible a year or even just a few _months_ ago. He is still on Caprica, doing what he does best: business. While she vowed the second she wrapped Zoe in a towel that she would never leave her daughter’s side again.

It had taken what felt like half a lifetime, but once she started talking to Zoe more, and starting relying on her own instincts, things had started to work out. And forgiveness had been granted on both sides. All sides, really, Amanda thinks as she watches the Gemenese sea crash against the cliffs below. Zoe believes in the One True God, and maybe someday, so could she. Until then, there’s nothing to stop her from building something new, something significant, maybe more significant than anything she’s done since she became a mother.

The betrayal had hurt. It still does sometimes, when she allows herself to think about the past, a thing that happens less and less with every day that passes. But she’s sure it’ll never completely fade. The scars, visible (an angry gash on her arm, several more on her legs and feet) and invisible (her brother, in her dreams, blowing up a stadium), are permanently etched upon her. She would have despised them, tried to get rid of them (and succeeded) in her old life. Now, she wears them proudly. They made her who she is today, and she wouldn’t want to miss that for anything. Not when Zoe’s in the next room, sleeping peacefully.

With one last glance outside, she leaves her spot near the window and quietly walks back to the bed, slipping under the duvet and curling up until she’s warm again. The covers stir slowly, but she runs her hand through the dark hair sticking out of them until any movement stops.

The waves still lap at the shore, and she’s here, now, in this moment, and things are alright.


End file.
